Beauty is its own reward or something along those lines. Today I went to my favorite Mexican restaurant, and as fate would have it I followed just behind a stunningly beautiful young woman. Instead of watching her I watched everyone else as she entered. There was a buzz as every male head turned to stare at her; say what you want about the speed of the internet, this young lady had it beat. The Latino men working behind the counter all smiled and blushed. The man at the counter was as professional as he could be with a big goofy grin on his face.
Magically the dishwashers appeared from the back to check her out as she stood carefree at the counter. She had the kind of beauty that gave the appearance of weightlessness. Her hair seemed to float, her blouse was fit to her upper body yet not tight, and her pants seemed as if they were painted on. Nothing she wore grabbed at her. The men around her seemed to float as well, as if they’d suddenly lost thirty pounds. I suspect this was the loss of mental weight as whatever thoughts had been running through their heads drifted away like Dandelions on a Spring breeze.
She sat down at a table near the counter as her order was to go. I smiled as many of the men suddenly needed to get up and refill at the salad bar which was nowhere near her. While there may have been vulgar talk about her at one of the tables I certainly didn’t hear it. Yes every guy in the place was lusting after her, but not in an aggressive way. It’s the kind of lust saved for that woman you hope to be stranded with on a Tropical island. The kind of lust where you know you would be the happiest man on earth being the one who woke next to her each morning. This kind of beauty has gravity, the kind of gravity that pulls from the inside out. As she sat there unaware of the stir she had caused the restaurant fell quiet as the men just watched as she scrolled through the messages on her phone.
Her order was ready (in record time) as was mine. We both stood and I paused to allow her distance before I followed her out. I was enjoying the view to be sure. The magic continued outside too. She got into her modest sports sedan and backed out. Usually the traffic here is impossible at lunch. It seemed as if a gap in time-space itself accompanied her as she drove away. Once her car was out of sight the spell was broken, cars lined up making my crossing of the street a chore, and the restaurant became noisy again to the point where I could hear it from the parking lot.
I won’t waste time trying to unravel this mystery. Partly because there are things that can never be known, but mostly because I don’t wish to take the fun out of it all. I’ve seen this happen before over the years with many other women, and it always fascinates me as men change gears to adjust to this angelic presence. It is the involuntary nature of this response is intriguing because it is counter-intuitive. For some types of beauty men become clowns, or jackasses. This kind of beauty causes them to become their better selves. That is the mystery, why can’t we men become our better selves on our own, and wouldn’t this attract this kind of beauty? Is there a fear that we can never measure up? Is being that better man a frightening concept?
Like I said, I’m not going to try to figure this one out, but you never know. If I do I’ll pass the secret along.